Breaking the Ice
by justawanderingdragon
Summary: WARNING: MAJOR HTTYD 2 SPOILERS Astrid knows it's no fun babysitting a chief who's still mourning his childhood, a ghost-lady who's more dragon than human, and an ex-dragon poacher who might have a crush on her. It's true. She has first-hand experience.
1. Chapter 1

**GO SEE HTTYD2 RIGHT NOW I HAVE SO MANY FEELS ABOUT THIS MOVIE IT WAS NEAR-PERFECT AND SO INSPERATIONAL I HAVE TO WRITE ABOUT IT**

Astrid became enlightened of Berk's bubbling crisis, of all times, when Ack broke his leg.

It was a little more than a week after defeating Drago Bludvist and his ice-breathing Bewilderbeast. Berk's dragons had worked tirelessly day and night to melt the shards of ice still encasing most of the village. The villagers themselves, of course, worked too to repair homes and roofs and, what Astrid had been in charge of supervising, the Mead Hall.

Ack was thatching the roof of his house—nothing serious, unlike some poor souls who were left with nothing but a pile of wet splinters, but enough to cause a few leaks. One second you're grumbling about lack of thatching material, the next you've fallen through the remaining thatch itself and have broken your leg.

Cold, hard ice was still welded into the straw, allowing a grown Viking like Ack to kneel comfortably on top with no fear of falling. However, Ack's neighbor Hoark had taken it upon himself to melt the still-stuck ice. He ordered his dragon, a sweet, young Gronkle called Tulip, to puff small balls of fire in the general direction of Ack's house.

Fortunately, the straw roof and wooden walls did not catch aflame. But the ice, Ack's only support system, melted.

And thus Ack had fallen through the roof of his own home and broken his leg.

Astrid's ears picked up their argueing before her eyes settled on Hoark and a limping Ack meandering in her direction.

"It was _yer _dragon that made me fall!"

"Well, _ye _should 'ave stood on something sturdier!"

Astrid shifted her attention from construction on the Mead Hall to the bickering men. She looked up from the blueprint plans she was reading. "Um, can I help you two with something?"

Hoark's eyes lit up, urgent to spill the atrocities his neighbor had accused him of. "Thank Odin! Astrid, tell Ack here that _it was'nae my fault_ that he broke his damn leg!"

"Oh no," Ack declared, wagging a finger at the other Viking. _"His_ dragon melted the ice I was on and now me leg's bum. I demand he pay for the damage to me leg and me roof! That was some quality straw we wasted, ye know."

Astrid looked at them, confused. She held up the paper containing the construction plans for the Mead Hall. "Why are you telling me this?" She was in charge of supervision on the Hall, not…Small-home repair! (Though, now that she thought of it, Berk _did_ need more small-home repair Vikings.)

"Aye," Hoark agreed. "Well, we looked for Hiccup—since he's the chief now and all—"

Ack butted in, "But we could'nae find him! So we went ta Valka, 'cause she's his mother and _she_ might know where the boy is—"

"—But _she_ did'nae know either and told us ta visit Spitelout—"

"—Who was busy supervising construction on the other side o' the island." Ack visibly winced. Astrid agreed that it was better not to pester the man when he was focused on something—Spitelout could be more than a bit intimidating when he wanted to. "So we went ta his son instead—"

"—Who told us ta come ta you."

Astrid blinked. Ack and Hoark awaited her review.

"Ah—well, I'm not the _best _when it comes to settling feuds, but I'd say that Hoark—" she pointed to the Viking on her right, "—You owe Ack new straw for his roof—and an apology. I know you had good intentions melting the ice, but you did it without Ack's permission."

Hoark groaned while Ack gave a whoop of delight.

"Thank ye, Astrid!" the lame man cried. Then they went off, Ack pestering his friend about potential new straw.

Astrid sighed, not believing she had just wasted valuable time just because two idiots got into a minor disagreement. 'I'm_ not supposed to do this,_' she thought. _'It's the _chief's_ job to listen to his peoples' needs."_

It was then she realized that the people of Berk needed Hiccup and the new chief was nowhere to be found (even I it was for something as petty as a broken leg in comparison to Berk's current lack of housing).

Everything had happened so fast for the poor boy; he discovered his mother, he lost his father, and had become chief in the swift course of about two days.

The first day of Hiccup's chiefdom had been relatively slow and somber, only to pick up pace as the hours stumbled forward. The entire island was still mourning the loss of the late Stoick the Vast. People walked around in a haze through the village-turned-maze of ice and debris. Questions were asked. "Who is Drago Bludvist?" "How did Stoick die?" "Why is Toothless glowing?" "Who is the hunk with the chin tattoos?"

Hiccup explained as best as he could for someone who had just come back from a long adventure, both physically and emotionally tiring—Drago not so much dragon _trained_ as he dragon _abused._ His Bewilderbeast had killed the previous alpha, only to be defeated by Toothless.

The villagers looked at the small Night Fury following Hiccup's every step diligently. That dragon was alpha of all the others?

It was unsurprising that the young chief grew tired quickly—the past few days had been anything but easy.

Astrid found him passed out in the cove on the second night, Toothless equally knocked-out with his wings wrapped protectively around his rider. She was tempted to wake him—it was the middle of the day and he had had time to sleep during the night. But if the drool dripping out of his mouth was to be accounted for, Hiccup was exhausted. Astrid left as quietly as she could, letting the duo sleep soundly.

The day she had been rudely interrupted by Ack and Hoark, the first place she went was to the infamous secluded cove. Astrid was greeted not by a snoring Night Fury or the beat of reptilian wings, but the sound of gurgling water and birds tweeting. Hiccup and Toothless were not there.

The next place to be thoroughly searched was Hiccup's own house, which had no major devastations due to being farther inland than the rest of the village.

The Haddocks' former home stood on a hill above the commonfolk. It had been scratched and seared, but no permanent damage befell upon it. With a little paint and a little wood, it would be fit for living again.

Astrid foolishly assumed Hiccup and Toothless would be resting there instead. She entered it, mirroring how she would normally approach the Haddock household.

But there was no fire at the hearth.

The structure felt colder than it should have been, more desolate and decrepit.

But it was not empty. There was a muffled noise, like snow falling from the roof or an outside breeze playing at the windows.

It was the dragon lady Valka—Hiccup's mother, although Astrid still had trouble referring to her as such. What kind of mother leaves her son for twenty years?

She ran her fingers across the wooden beams supporting Hiccup's loft. "I assumed they still lived here," Valka said, confident but quivering slightly. Living among wild animals for two decades will do things to your voice. Valka probably had spoken more in the past few days than she was comfortable with.

"Yeah," Astrid sighed. "But I haven't seen Hiccup come up here since we got back."

Valka whispered, "I didn't expect him to."

Astrid wanted to stop staring at the woman, but she couldn't help herself; she was practically looking at a ghost. Valka had been "dead" for twenty years, only to appear again, living with dragons. Astrid made sure to keep a good distance from herself and the almost-dragon lady; Valka was practically a dragon herself.

"I was looking for him too," Valka said. "He's not in the cove and I wanted to tell him goodbye—and where he can find me."

"Goodbye?" Astrid said. All ghosts leave the earth once their purpose was served; was it possible Valka thought Hiccup no longer needed her?

"Yes. I'm going back home."

"But you _are_ home!" Astrid gestured to the house they stood in; the house where Valka a cooked barely-edible meals, the house where she had given birth to Hiccup. A place so full of memories, so full of love…How could she say this _wasn't_ home? This was _Berk,_ for Odin's sake!

Valka laughed softly. "My home is with the dragons. No, I could never stay here not with—" and with the next word, her face twisted into disgust. "Not with _Vikings."_

Astrid, naturally, was offended. She considered herself a Viking.

"Yes, but—" Astrid stuttered. Finally accepting that this woman plain didn't care for Vikings or humans in general, she decided to appeal to dragons. "But the alpha is here! _The alpha!"_ Hiccup was chief and Toothless was the alpha. Huh. Funny how things turned out.

Valka turned to face Astrid, green eyes meeting blue. "There are more dragons out there, ye know." She scowled. "Drago is still out there, along with other people who kill and abuse dragons. I _have_ to save them. It's my destiny."

"Your destiny may be dragons," Astrid said, seething. She was _appalled._ How _dare _this woman leave Hiccup when he needed her most. "But so is Hiccup's. And you know what? You can do it together."

"Astrid, can ye not respect my decision?"

"Can you not be a decent person? Hiccup _needs_ you." She pleaded, "Stay. Please. For the son you never knew." She grasped Valka's hand and looked at her, sternly.

Valka saw not a warrior wanting to protect her village, but a friend concerned for a loved one. This was her future daughter-in-law. She was a girl who had fallen in love with Berk's chief-to-be. Valka could relate.

She gave in. "We'll stay. Me and Cloudjumper." Then she chuckled. "Who knows? There are probably a lot more dragons on the island now ye've stopped killing them, plus the ones recently freed from Drago's control…"

Astrid let out a half-strangled breath of relief. She wasn't Valka's biggest fan, but they could get along as neighbors and potential relatives. "Good. Now, I think you can stay—"

Astrid's worries about sleeping arrangements were interrupted by the delightful cries of several Vikings outside. "The chief! He's back!"

"Come on!" Astrid giggled. She grabbed Valka's hand and attempted to pull the woman outside. "You and your son have twenty years to catch up on!"


	2. Chapter 2

**What? Surprised that I **_**actually**_** updated a fic? I quite like this one, to be honest. In fact, it'll probably be done before some of my others! Also, look how many followers! Over 15! Thanks, guys! Now if only all of you reviewed…**

"Hey, Chief!" Astrid cried good-naturedly, slapping her fiancé on the back. She smiled and gave him a light squeeze of a hug. Hiccup returned it. After a long day, an embrace felt good to both of them.

Valka stood off, to the side. But she was beaming at the sight of her son with the woman he loved. Despite what Astrid told her, she still _felt _like a mother, even if she hadn't been there for Hiccup.

Hiccup himself dropped his arms from Astrid's waist. "Astrid, can I speak to you please?" Then he noticed his mother observing them like a curious dragon inspects a human. "Alone," he mumbled. Astrid stood on her toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek before gently dragging him away.

Valka stood off, to the side.

**xXx**

"So what's the issue?" Astrid asked, sitting on a boulder. If the sullen and breached house was anything to go by, Hiccup wouldn't be entering it any time soon. Instead, she had allured him shallowly into the forest._ 'When he's feeling better,' _Astrid told herself. _'And _especially_ once he's gotten a proper bath.'_ It didn't take a health inspector to come to the conclusion that the closest thing Hiccup had gotten to a bath all week was probably being dunked in the sea by Toothless.

"I have an idea," he winced. Before Astrid could open her mouth, Hiccup said, "No, no, it's a _good_ one!"

"Well, that's wonderful, then!"

"No—you see—" Hiccup was stuttering. "It's a _good_ idea, I just—Gah!" He ran his hands through his hair and started pacing. "I was flying on Toothless, you see…"

Astrid nodded. As she assumed, Hiccup had been up in the sky with his best friend while neglecting duties. Typical, typical Hiccup.

Her poor boyfriend looked guiltier than a fish-stealing dragon. He paced back and forth, until Astrid interrupted his ramblings with a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay," she said. "I know everything has happened way too fast for you, your family, your responsibility…" Astrid pulled his head so that the forest crashed with the sea. "Flying with Toothless is A-okay until you get your emotions sorted out." She smiled. "Then on with chiefdom and wonderful ideas!"

"That's just it!" Hiccup burst out. "I _do_ have ideas; I have this wonderful idea where we can visit other islands—"

"And what's so bad about that?"

"…That's just it. We don't_ need_ it right now. We have other priorities at the moment." Shards of ice impaling houses, ruined crops, and lack of shelter came to mind. "I was hoping…" Hiccup's proposition trailed off into a nervous stutter.

"Spit it out!" Astrid hissed impatiently.

Hiccup stuttered and spat out his bid quickly. "I want you to be co-chief." Then, before Astrid could respond, "Just for a while. Please. I've got so many great ideas for Berk—man it's gonna be so awesome—but you know me, I need someone to keep me on track." He looked sheepish. "To help me keep my head out of the clouds."

Hiccup awaited his fiancé's response with a slight grimace and wide, open green eyes, preparing for criticism. Astrid was a natural leader, if her role in Drago's defeat was anything to account for—not just any ol' shieldmaiden can lead a group of young dragon riders on a successful kidnapping mission. And he and her were to be married in the spring; who _else_ but Astrid to stand by his side as Berk rebuilt itself?

"…An exchange program," Astrid whispered after a few seconds.

"What?"

"It's like your idea, but better!" Astrid was up now, skirt twirling as she paced back and forth from excitement, grinning from ear to ear. "We send dragon riders to neighboring islands to teach them how to train their dragon and in return they help us rebuilt Berk—food, supplies, men, we could use it all!"

"Woah, woah." A slightly confused Hiccup went out of his way to stop his girlfriend's elation-induced pacing. "No offense, but that's not the best idea…"

"Hey, well," She punched him lightly on the shoulder, still smiling. "At least _mine _benefits Berk!"

"Yes, but—" Hiccup struggled to keep the Viking girl from squirming. "Now think this through…Would they _really _trade valuable resources? They might not even _want_ to co-live with dragons!" Centuries of warfare and memories of mass destruction and burning buildings don't pop like a bubble in just five years. "Hel, some of the tribes aren't even all that friendly!"

Astrid responded nonchalantly, "The Meatheads I _know_ have been jealous of us Hooligans since you and Toothless first killed the Red Death."

Hiccup had to admit there was some truth to her words. There had been hilarious retellings and rumors about how the nearby Meathead tribe had attempted to train dragons on their own, usually ending with a burn injury or two. The so-dubbed "Meathead Method" usually consisted of yelling at a dragon twice your size in an attempt to bully it into obedience. The Hooligans had offered several times to help, only to be turned down by the Meatheads' proud demeanor.

"And the Bog Burglars," Astrid went to, smiling coyly. "Just think about how thankful they would be if they tamed some stealth dragons. Plus, isn't the heir your ex-girlfriend or something?"

"N-no! Camicazi and I are just friends—"

But Astrid was ignoring him, too caught up in her own vision for the future. "We could start an alliance! We could defend ourselves from enemies, dragons and Vikings and different tribes all working together! Oh Hiccup, it would be so much better for the entire Archipelago!"

The proposal was sounding more and more appealing to Hiccup. Maybe they could even put a stop to the for-sport dragon hunting…

"Since when do you run this tribe?" he asked, a sliver of amusement flickering though his voice.

Astrid gave her fiancé a small peck on his check, right on top of those freckles she loved so much. "Since I became co-chief."

Their eyes met and Hiccup laughed, louder and happier than he had laughed in weeks. He threw his arms around her and lifted her off ground so her boots barely scratched the dirt and planted a kiss on her lips.

"So you'll help me?" he asked, after a few chaste seconds.

Astrid laughed too. "Of course! That's what I'm here for, you idiot!"

"Oh thank the Gods!" He kissed her again, silencing her amused giggles. Their lips remained locked for a while longer, cherishing the one stress-free moment they had shared in over a week.

With his lips no longer touching Astrid's, Hiccup grinned. "Great! I was thinking maybe you could run the Academy for now."

Astrid's pleased expression dissolved into a look of disgust. "The Academy? Hiccup, that's the _last_ thing on our mind right now. Berk just got ravished by a madman and his dragon! We have shortages of food and shelter—I've been sleeping in the Mead Hall with half the population as well!"

Hiccup looked like someone had just told him he couldn't have desert, even after he'd finished his supper. The Dragon Training Academy was Hiccup's pet project and hope for the future.

"We _do_ need to recruit more dragon riders," he half-heartedly argued.

"_I_ sure as Hel am not doing it, and as your co-chief I refuse to let _you_ waste your time when you could be helping others! If you happen to find yet another experienced trainer who's spent years training and learning about dragons and is willing to teach a bunch of kids, let me know."

Of course she was being sarcastic. Of course she didn't think anyone could meet the qualifications. And of course Hiccup had a plan.

**xXx**

Valka got along with most of the dragons, but she found her son's Night Fury to be particularly amiable. Toothless himself was fascinated by her. His rider smelled of fish and leather and sea salt, but this was the first human who actually reeked of reptilian beasts. She smelled like a dragon, growled like a dragon, and even looked somewhat like one when she donned that flamboyant gear of hers! If he had not seen Valka fluent in the Norse tongue, he would've thought she were a dragon herself.

It gave Hiccup happiness to see his dragon and his mother on good terms. When he found them, they were wrestling playfully on the ground, like how a mother dragon teases her hatchlings with paw swipes and soft nips—Valka acting as the mother, of course. Hiccup dove right in the middle of the fun fest.

"It's nice to see you two are getting along!" he grunted, as Toothless pounced on him—Hiccup swore that dragon thought he was smaller than he actually was, for Hiccup was knocked down. Or maybe that was the whole point because only a second later, Toothless had his rider pinned under his paws, licking his face like a puppy on caffeine.

"Mom—" Hiccup managed to struggle out between tongues of dragon saliva. "How—_lick_—do you like—_lick_—Berk so far?"

Valka chuckled. "I admit I was a bit stingy about Vikings, but…" Her eyes trailed over the village, a picture of perfect unity between Vikings and dragons; there were children playfully chasing hatchlings around the well, battle-hardened warriors giving belly rubs to accepting dragons, and everything else that made Valka stop every few minutes and ask herself if she was in Valhalla. Then she looked at her boy, grinning like the dork he was, covered in dragon spit. She sighed. "…But I guess I was wrong."

"Well, not _entirely."_ Hiccup struggled to stand, his prosthetic slipping in the saliva coating the ground. "There are a few old grump-bags who think that we can't coexist peacefully." Memories of cabbages and old sheep specifically came to mind. "Dragons are almost fully integrated on Berk, but we still need help—your help."

"Where is this going, Hiccup?"

"I used to run this Dragon Training Academy, but obviously I'm too busy for it now. I was wondering…" He glanced at his mother sheepishly. "Maybe you could do it?"

His usually energetic and joyful mother looked all her forty years, wrinkles and gray hairs and all. "I don't know, Hiccup…I've been gone for so long, I don't think I ever belonged on Berk to begin with." She gave a mirthless laugh. "I can hardly believe that I've even been _noticed_ yet. Imagine a dead woman teaching the people that made her die."

But one look into Hiccup's eyes, flaring with a stubborn glint promising to nag her about it even if she refused, made her think twice. If it had been any other Viking—Astrid, the Jorgensons, or even her deceased husband—she wouldn't think twice about staying grounded on one island. It was plain torture. But this was her son. This was her baby.

A voice rang in her head, _'Hiccup _needs_ you'._

Valka's mouth spoke before her mind had thought it through. She hadn't even heard her own words, just heard the laughing and the 'thank you's' and just felt the hugs around her. Valka hugged back. She had made the right decision.


	3. Chapter 3

**This one's short! I'm sorry! And also, I need to change that summary. :P I'm updating BTI far more frequently than my others. I want to get this one done! I've got a whole list of fanfics I want to write.**

Astrid valued relationships.

Well,_ now_ she valued relationships. It used to be she was known for being distant, but not emotionally repressed. If she was mad, angry, sad, she would have no shame in letting those around her be aware of her feelings.

She had grown close to Hiccup over the past five years, seeing him evolve from a pathetic screw-up to a respected person who knows their own abilities. And he too had seen her grow up. Long gone were nervous stutters and glares, now replaced by laughter and loose shoulders. If there was anyone Astrid could be completely comfortable and at ease around, it was Hiccup.

And then there were her parents. They loved her very much, and she returned the favor. Her father was the type of person you could tell secrets to and he would keep his lips sealed with a wink and her mother, although very much a housewife and proud, supported her ambition to be a shieldmaiden. The whole Hofferson household was on very good terms with each other.

Her peers were easy enough to get along with—even if Fishlegs _did_ have a one-track mind, the twins were adrenaline junkies, and Snotlout could be a pain in the ass sometimes. In a way, they were more like family than friends to her; she didn't _choose _to be raised alongside them (after a certain age, they all got grouped together as Berk's scarce adolescents), but she tolerated them nonetheless and was content with their presence.

But oddly enough, despite having known him for less than a month, Astrid found herself spending more time with Eret, son of Eret, the ex-dragon poacher.

He liked to act gruff and stingy, but no one really took him seriously. He was like a baby dragon to the rest of the village, silly and immature. Eret had gone from semi-feared and respected in the trapping community to the weirdo that people would laugh good-naturedly at. To be honest, though, he didn't really have a problem; people treating you like some kitten that thinks it's a lion is _far_ better than living your life in fear.

Eret clung to Astrid like a scared puppy. His once brash demeanor had dissolved into something rather like a very confused Terrible Terror. Berk was full of strangers with strange faces and strange names, but somehow, Eret was like a celebrity. Mostly, though, people knew him as "that new guy who hangs around Astrid Hofferson". He wasn't stupid, he'd heard the rumors about the chief's fiancé and him. But when nothing as so much sparked between the two, most people (aside from those who basically gossiped for a living) grumbly accepted that Astrid was just a nice person and let a very lost Eret follow her around.

In fact, it was if Hiccup, Astrid, and their friends had adopted Eret as one of their own. He joined Berk's blossoming leaders for meals and such, but if they and Astrid were to part ways to do different tasks, he was sure to follow Astrid.

Hiccup himself was nowhere to be found on one particular night ("he's been busy all day," Valka explained, "he's flying to burn off steam"). Actually, most of the time he was not found after dusk. Astrid found this behavior immature and annoying, but did not stop it; it was Hiccup's way of dealing with things, and if it works for Hiccup, why not let him do it?

Astrid preferred the cozy homeliness of the Mead Hall to the wildness of the skies. She had her friends, warmth that kept away all chilling thoughts, hearty food, and a cup of ale. What was not to love?

Eret sat diagonally across from her. Astrid had always thought the tables of the Mead Hall were too big for anyone's good. The thick, strong wood spanning a length longer than most houses was supposed to hold as many drunken Vikings as possible, never not including someone. But when one sat alone with someone they almost knew but not quite, the table beneath them was a pair of handcuffs, dragging Astrid and Eret together.

Eret yawned what was obviously a fake-yawn. "I guess I should be going now if you wish to be alone—"

"No, no," Astrid replied, drumming her fingers on the wooden tankard. "Stay. It's okay." The ex-dragon trapper sat down at her command. The others had left only a few moments ago—their footsteps and chatter could still be heard as they walked out the door. Astrid swung her legs over the table to sit next to her new friend. There was a thud and a mess of leather and legs flung themselves right next to Eret.

"Have you heard back from your men?"

"Er, no."

Eret prayed to the gods (not any gods in particular—all the religions he had encountered on his travels had gotten somewhat jumbled in his mind) that the trappers hadn't immediately killed the Terrible Terror sent their way. Hopefully the scrap of paper had made it to them if it wasn't too damp or torn.

"Anything new?" he asked, trying to replicate her small talk. Astrid's confidence wasn't annoying per se, but it was definitely off-setting. She could march right up to him and poke him and hug him and wouldn't expect any objections. "You're in the Gang now," she explained, winking.

Astrid took a swig from her tankard. "Yeah. Hiccup's gotten the wonderful idea to put his crazy mother in charge of dragon training while he's chief."

"Oh, um…" Eret didn't quite know how to respond to that. "What about you?"

"Hmm? I've got other duties."

If Eret had noticed anything about the contrasts of Berk's power couple, it was that Astrid is to duty as Hiccup is to exploring; dedicated to the extreme and constantly annoying their partner. The evidence was right in front of him; here Astrid was eating and drinking like a proper Viking after a long day of hard work while Hiccup was off doing Odin-knows-what. They were the _definition _of "opposites attract".

"Valka seems like a good substitute," Eret remarked.

"She is, I just—I'm just worried."

"Worried?" he quipped. "About what?" No one knew more about training dragons than Valka. How was getting her to teach Berk's new generation a bad idea?

"Maybe after a while," Astrid admitted. "After things get settled down, after _Hiccup and Valka_ get settled down—although I don't think that'll ever happen. I'm worried for Hiccup; he's under a lot of stress. I'm worried for Valka; it's going to take a while for her to adjust to living on Berk again. And I'm worried for Berk because Valka would be a GREAT teacher_ IF _she had her students' best interests in mind. She doesn't. She's not a fan of Berk and she lets everybody know it."

"Does anyone else on Berk know she's alive?" Valka had kept all but her shadow out of site while she stayed on Berk. Not many knew of her presence.

Astrid sighed. "I'm not sure. Now I'm _wishing_ she had left! She was going to go back, you know. To the dragons. Although I wonder what they'll do now if their alpha's on Berk…" She laughed softly. None of the Vikings could picture Toothless as the alpha of all dragons. The Night Fury was intimidating, sure, but he was _Toothless._

"Give her a chance," Eret encouraged. "You gave me one."

She punched him good-naturedly on the shoulder and chuckled. "Yeah, but _you're_ a doofus. It was like training a dog to earn your trust."

Eret rubbed his shoulder. "I'm not sure I like being compared to a dog…"

The night ended on a happy note; two friends conversing and laughing. Astrid then plucked the conversation and turned it inside-out, revealing a different, much more light topic. They weren't truly happy, because what philosophers like to call "true happiness" can only exist in the absence of sadness. Never in history has there passed a moment happiness had shoved sadness's decrepit face into ground and killed it.

But for what it's worth, I think everyone on Berk was happy that night. There were casualties. There were deaths. But it was over and relief came faster and was sharper than the Bewilderbeast's icy breath. And with relief comes hope. Berk had rebuilt itself not once, but dozens of times before in dragon raids. What's a little ice compared to flames from Hel itself? It wasn't that bad, and it was going to get better.

If only the people heard the cries of their chief, miles away and in the sky.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ermmm, well this chapter marks the first use of an OC in one of my fanfics! Not that they're very much important, just there to move the plot along. I don't expect this fic to be long, maybe three more chapters at the most? I don't know. Enjoy!**

Berk had grown to be a bit more than the scrawny rock it had been five years ago. The buildings were no longer roughly tossed on the slopes, waiting to be demolished by a dragon. Time, effort, and lots of paint were put into a Berk revamped. Houses could afford to be colorful, recreational structures could be built.

Unfortunately, that means it's harder to rebuild. And this is where Hiccup comes in. Building, designing, constructing—that was Hiccup's forte. Probably more than half of the dragon-related buildings on Berk originated in Hiccup's expansive imagination.

Did Hiccup try to avoid construction work? Of course. Did Astrid drag him into it? She definitely did.

Hiccup's skill with a paper and pencil proved to be more useful than all the dragons you could muster. Engineering and artistic ability go very well together when you want to design a nice building for your new village.

There was a cry of "Hiccup!" and the chief found himself strangled in Astrid's hug. His stutters were extinguished by a quick peck on the cheek. "Hey, chief!"

He responded with a swooping hug. "Astrid! How's the Hall coming along?"

"Good, all good." She smiled innocently, swinging her hands. One of the marvelous qualities of Berkian construction was that they could rebuild their structures sturdily and fast. Three hundred years of raids and rebuilding left this stuff ingrained into the tribe's identity.

"I came to tell you that our proposal was accepted by a few neighboring tribes; the Meatheads, Bashem-Oiks, Peacables, you know. They're coming to help with repairs, any day now."

"That's it?"

"What?" Astrid laughed. "Hoping the _Bog-Burglars_ might drop by to visit the impressive Hiccup Haddock the Chief?"

"Astrid!"

Hiccup hesitantly joined on in the laughter after Astrid knocked his arm a bit.

"But seriously," he said, rubbing his arm. Gone were the days where Astrid's blows could potentially shatter his bones, but even as she aged into a senior citizen, Astrid's punches would leave bruises. "I don't think we need their help. We're almost done!"

"Isn't this what you've always wanted?" Didn't you _dream_ of cooperation and peace between tribes? They responded to our offer positively. Rebuilding Berk aside, isn't this the perfect opportunity to make allies? To make _friends?"_

"I don't…" Hiccup couldn't believe what had just come out of Astrid's mouth. She had always focused on the "bigger picture", the potential rewards of the future, the common good. It was weird seeing how their priorities had mutated from the tiny island of Berk to the _whole world._ Traveling does that to you.

Astrid was equally puzzled. This was not how Hiccup normally acted. Since when had he become so _skeptical,_ so _cautious,_ so—

"What if we are attacked?" Hiccup blurted half-heartedly. "We're vulnerable, what if we can't trust them?"

"Hiccup…" Astrid put a hand on her boyfriend's shoulder. This _had_ to be a joke. A mirage. "We _know _these people. They visit us for Things, we see each other on Thor's Day Thursday and Freyja's Day Friday…They're our _friends."_

"Prove it."

Astrid growled angrily. "Hiccup!"

"I'm serious!" he argued, pushing her hand away. "We can't be idealistic, we can't_ afford _to be—"

"Hiccup," she said again, her anger boiling softly under a visage of gentleness. Astrid grabbed the brunette's bangs and yanked his head to face hers. What she saw in Hiccup was heartshattering.

How does one who was so carefree and content with his life become so gray in demeanor in such a short amount of time? Hiccup was always embedded in his delicate glass case of idealism, but no one quite knew how delicate that glass was. It certainly wasn't _that_ fragile; it had taken a hammer to shatter it.

But once a person is shattered, they are broken.

"Do you want to take a break?" Astrid asked pitifully.

Hiccup stared. Astrid? Recommending a _break?_ "What? No! Astrid, I'm fine." He started to walk away, but Astrid's grip on his arm was a bit too strong. She yanked him over.

"Us. Dragons. _**Now."**_

**xXx**

"Do you owe their chief?"

Mogadon the Meathead, chief of the Meathead tribe, grunted. The rivalry between the Hooligans and the Meatheads had become infamous throughout the Barbaric Archipelago. On a social celebration like Thor's Day Thursday, the drunken shouts between two Vikings trying to see who could withstand more pain kept neighboring islands up until the sun silenced the ruckus. The tribes' fights were always petty and, as sleep-deprived Peacables could testify, well, stupid. Berk had been inhabited for as long as the Meathead Islands, and vice versa; they were twin tribes that fought far too often.

It was all in good humor and in the name of the Viking variant of fun, and the competition was secretly enjoyed by both sides. Siblings argue and spit and claw at each other, but at the end of the day, they are siblings and will help each other.

Not that Mogadon admitted that no, he was not in the Hooligans' debt, they were just being good people. Vikings aren't stereotypically "good people" and the chief of the Meatheads was determined to appear as tough as outsiders had stereotyped them as.

This man was an outsider, that was a fact. His eyes were slanted and brown, a way that only people from the east or the north were; his skin was not a shade darker than peach, so there was no way he was from the north. The man—who had revealed his name to be Tomorbraatar, a curious and definitely foreign name to Mogadon's crew—had been found along with two others of similar appearance in a wooden craft of some sort, looking almost like a raft and almost like a boat, but completely destroyed.

Mogadon huffed. "We owe nothing to those Hooligans, we simply feel as if this would be the perfect situation to propose an alliance—Berk is not particularly strong, you know, but it does have something we don't—dragons." He did not add that the Hairy Hooligans and the Meatheads already had the oldest known alliance in the Archipelago.

"Dragons?" For the first time since he had been invited onto the Meathead ship, Tomorbraatar showed signs of emotion (even in the freezing Nordic waters, the man had remained utterly stoic).

"Stoick—the late chief—his son ended those awful dragon raids that have plagued the archipelago for centuries. Now, instead of killing dragons, they tame them." He chuckled gruffly, as only a battle-hardened Viking could laugh. "Berk's gone soft. That's the only explanation. No, if you ask me, any problem can be fixed in good ol' Viking fashion: attack it!" Mogadon laughed some more. He turned, expecting to find Tomorbraatar chuckling along with him, but the man clearly had superior things on his mind.

"Vikings on the backs of dragons!" Mogadon added. "What a concept!"

"It is very unusual," admitted Tomorbraatar. "Even where I am from."

Mogadon slapped the foreigner on the back, good naturedly. "You're a good man, Tom—Tomorbra—Tomor…" The chief swore under his breath. Damn those unpronounceable, foreign names!

The was a cry from somewhere on the ship and Mogadon stormed off to address the situation, leaving Tomorbraatar to his own devices.

He stood there on his own for a while, letting the wind's icy breath dig into his skin. No matter. He was used to it. He had sailed farther than those Vikings had even mapped, so far north that the land was inhabited only by white-chested polar bears.

His shipwrecked companions soon joined him. They slunk out of the shadows like ink dripped from a paper. Two droplets of the sticky black substance joined with the larger inkling to create a large, dark blot.

They spoke to each other casually, in their own tongue, none of which any of the Norse sailors knew. To the Vikings, waves crashing on a beach sounded more like a coherent language than whatever the outsiders were speaking. The boarders didn't bother to keep their voices below the waves, and even laughed a few times. The Meatheads assumed they were talking about something of the ordinary, the weather, the cold, maybe even sharing an inside joke from their homeland.

The visitors, as the Vikings had learned, knew a great deal about sailing. They knew when to tack and when to jibe, and how to tell north from south and east from west. They had become very useful members of the crew headed to Berk.

Aside from Tomorbraatar (or "Tom" as the Meatheads called him, except for Mogadon who stubbornly insisted on getting his name right, despite failing every time), there was a gangly man named Batbayar and a short, stoic woman called Nergui. Tomorbraatar spoke the most frequently to the crew, as his Norse was nearly perfected. However, this did not dissuade them from attempting to converse with the two other foreigners. Batbayar tried his very best to answer in Norse, and he often answered enthusiastically, but when you don't know much more than a phrasebook, you're lost. If anyone had asked the Meatheads, it appeared that Nergui was deaf, for she took no notice of anyone but her companions.

She never spoke to anybody, except on the day Berk's docks had flung themselves over the horizon, when she appealed to Mogadon to shift the boat southward until they reached a certain island.

"I have friends. They can help me." Nergui's broken Norse was difficult to comprehend, until Tomorbraatar explained that the rest of their fleet was possibly waiting there. Mogadaon protested that the Meatheads would be a day late to Berk. Eventually, through a plan of cunning words and guilt-tripping, Nergui and Tomorbraatar convinced the chief that the stop was necessary.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING. HERE, HAVE A CHAPTER. THIS IS PROBABLY THE SECOND-TO-LAST ONE. ENJOY. Now watch as I scramble back into the darkness.**

"Hello, m'lady."

Astrid giggled as the tall figure swooped over her and draped her in its shadow.

"Have you seen my mother?" Hiccup asked.

His fiancée sneered and crossed her arms. They both knew that Astrid was not shy about expressing her dislike for her future mother-in-law. "She insisted on going back to the sanctuary for a while," she said bitterly. "To check up on the dragons, was her excuse."

"Okay. When she comes back, can you tell her I want to talk to her about the Academy?" He attempted to get back in Toothless's saddle, but Astrid yanked him back down to earth.

"And you're okay with this?" she nearly shrieked. "After she left you for all these years?"

Hiccup shrugged. "Yeah."

"Why?" Astrid cried, exasperated. His morals sat skewed to her; what was to feel besides anger at a selfish mother who abandoned him for the sake of playing the role of a mock mother to some dragons.

The young chief gave a dejected sigh. "What do you want me to do?" he inquired. "Get mad? Refuse to forgive her? Demand an apology?"

"Yes!"

Hiccup looked at Astrid square in the eye. "You can be annoyed all you want, but I _can't._ Do I completely agree with her motivations? No, of course not! But I understand. And to feel anger towards her…well, that would be a tad bit hypocritical, don't you think so?"

Astrid was speechless, just for a moment, when she seriously contemplated slapping her boyfriend. "You desperately want to believe," she said quietly. "That most people in this world are good at heart."

Embarrassed and annoyed-looking, Hiccup fumed silently at the ground beneath his feet.

"And…" Astrid touched Hiccup's face gently, in a way that only lovers can touch. "And I think we both know that's not true." She spoke firmly, as if she was trying to convince herself as well.

When Hiccup and Toothless quietly retreated, Astrid wondered if she had been a bit too harsh. She sighed and said to herself and to the world as well, "We can't afford to be ideal nowadays."

"You're sure right, we can't!" a voice responded.

Astrid blindly threw her fist in the general direction of the voice behind her.

"Woah, woah," said the owner, cocky and confident. "It's just me!"

Eret was lucky Astrid valued his life. It had been over two weeks and still she never adjusted to a new face on Berk, an action that had led to several almost-comical black eyes.

"How's it going, co-chief?"

His comment was met by an exasperated sigh by the co-chief herself, followed by a speech Eret could only classify as a rant. Astrid moaned the complications in her life, Hiccup's extreme reluctance to take up the chiefdom, the fact that everyone seemed to forgive Valka but _her,_ and other generic ramblings of a stressed-out young adult.

"Never mind that." Astrid composed her appearance, the moment of disfigurement over as quickly as it had started. "I must be off and—THE OTHER TRIBES." Her hands clenched with oppressed vexation and she sprinted off towards the docks. Eret saw no choice but to follow her, although while she maneuvered seamlessly through the mess that was Berk, he did not meet her standards of grace.

By the time he arrived at a bustling dock, Astrid had once again put on the appearance of a flawless co-chief, greeting the helpful tribes and giving orders.

Eret had only seen so many ships in one place when Drago's army had aggregated, and still never out in the open, only in hidden ravines and secluded fjords. And the gatherings had never been so social, so friendly; it was obvious that the Hooligans were a well-liked bunch of Vikings.

There were the flags of the Meatheads, waving gloriously in the wind, the weather-stained sails stitched in a way that only the Bashem-Oiks sew (quite delicate and fine stitching for a tribe known mainly for bashing their victims' skulls with hammers until their brains ooze), and there might have even been a Bog-Burglar ship or two, but Eret could not tell for sure, for all the female Vikings looked exactly the males (complete with stubble and scruff).

Eret noticed that Hiccup and Astrid greeted the foreigners as equals; there was no distinction between who was chief and who was not. And although Hiccup dubbed Astrid his "co-chief", she had no _real_ political influence.

He had always proudly bore the title "Eret, son of Eret", but what his time spent with these vigilante dragon riders had taught him more than anything was that one's heritage was _not_ the most important aspect of the whole person. Just because you are born into nobility does not make you a particularly noble and honorable person. Just because your family is made up of commoners does not mean that _you_ are so common.

**xXx**

It was a dingy island with not much on it. The water was grey and bleak, and the isle itself bleaker still. The dull sand was the same color as the ocean, which was the same color as the sky. It was the kind of place you wouldn't want to look at, and you wouldn't look at it, for your eyes would skim right over the dull surface and mind would render it invisible. Not even a blind man would turn to this sorrowful, destitute, and colorless place.

That was exactly why the remnants of an army gathered on this lost island; grey and colorless ships blend right in on a grey and colorless island. It was only a sliver of a squad; the rest might have been thriving, who-knows-where. But this section specialized in using combat dragons (dragons, unfortunately, are useful in battle and it was this fact that had led the army to use them for this loathsome purpose). Their own dragons—the very creatures they worked with daily—had left them, even, to dare say it, ravished them.

Some of the crew had thrown their arms up in the air, knowing full well that the only power keeping the animals under their control was their leader's Bewilderbeast—something must have killed the Bewilderbeast or usurped it; there was no way their combat dragons would leave at random. The other crewmembers took up a fight with the dragons, attempting to make them remain on the ship using physical force. This did not go well.

And so here this pathetic crew lay, on a beach in the middle of nowhere. They were trying to plan their return to Drago, if the man was still alive after his supposed failure. Drago was the kind of person to not take the phrase "our dragons escaped" lightly. The crew shivered in remembrance of what he had done to others who did not please him. So, they decided to stay on this little island, the one that nobody would look at (even with the finest of telescopes), until they came up with a proper excuse that was less likely to get them killed.

You can imagine their surprise when another ship (a bit smaller than their own and in the Norse style) anchored itself on the shore of the island-no-one-was-supposed-to-see. There were gruff and disgruntled Vikings on it, speaking in their language that sounded more like spitting than anything else. But the only person to touch their boots to the grey sand was a small, round woman with almond-shaped eyes.

The Vikings left her there, standing on the beach, her feet placed delicately on the sand. The strange woman did not move a muscle.

Then someone, a persone of Drago's lost crew, shouted out, "Nergui!"

**xXx**

Eret was beginning to see Hiccup in a different light.

It had begun one night, after a few drinks in the Mead Hall, Eret had the courage to ask Astrid why the chief was named in such a demeaning way. The sober part of his brain braced for the potential tempest (names, he had discovered, are either a touchy subject or cared for none at all), but his question was received with a storm of laughter instead.

"Hiccup?" Astrid giggled out. "Have you_ seen_ his noodle-arms? A dragon's toothpick, we used to call him!"

She told him the story of this kid who could not kill a dragon, who could not do, well, much of _anything._ This pathetic, skinny boy who went unnoticed unless he was making a mess. "I don't think anyone _wanted_ to notice him," she added. The adults anyways; adolescents think in somewhat of a hive mind, and if one picks on another, then suddenly everyone is forced to choose sides. Hiccup ended up as a lone defender.

"Look," Astrid explained. "I know you don't like him. He's an asshole and he knows it—I'm pretty sure. But I don't think he likes to be burdened with responsibility, to be literally grounded."

This picture Astrid was weaving of a little pathetic boy whom no one cared much for, was a struggling one in Eret's mind. _Everyone_ loved Hiccup.

"Didn't they get in trouble?" Eret quizzed. "It wouldn't make any sense to mock the chief's son, the heir."

Astrid took a swig of her ale. "Eret, I don't know where you learned that being a downright _asshole_ is acceptable in_ any_ circumstance. But it sure as hell ain't acceptable here on Berk, chief's son or not.

"I guess were all kinda jerks," she mused. "Just shows what generations of war breeds into you." Then she stood up, skirt swinging as she did, and left the table. "See ya, Eret!"

Eret acknowledged her exit, half-heartedly.

**xXx**

"Nergui, what is your plan?"

"Well," the soldier answered in impeccable Norse. "It is to simply attack. They have no food, no resources, their entire village is in shambles, and not to mention _the chief himself is hardly there."_ She chuckled at this. "I see him up in the skies, flying on that black dragon of his." A few people looked up at the sky, as to glimpse a streak of ebony against the bright blue and white of the heavens. "And he's not a real chief, not really. He's only a boy, lost, sad, and confused. A _real _chief would know the dangers of the real world."

A good chunk of the crew snickered, and Nergui smiled.

She declared, "Our spies will drive away the Meatheads, the Bashem-Oiks, the Peacables. When Berk is left soggy and helpless, we shall have our revenge!"


End file.
